


Best I Never Had

by opti



Category: 10 Years (2011), Parks and Recreation
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Drinking, F/M, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Karaoke, Lost Love, Mild Sexual Content, Post-High School, Recreational Drug Use, School Reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-25
Updated: 2015-08-25
Packaged: 2018-04-17 04:25:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4652166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/opti/pseuds/opti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's almost no reason for April to be at her high school reunion. In fact, she can't really remember why she came in the first place. All she knows, now, is that it was the best decision she could have ever made.</p><p>Splinter universe of <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/2544641">Start of Something Beautiful</a>/<a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/2223822/chapters/5330597">Cut.</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Best I Never Had

**Author's Note:**

> I finished watching "10 Years" not that long ago, and kinda fell in love with the Reeves/Elise subplot and realized, near the end, how good this would work for April/Andy. My brain-gears got a turnin' and here we are. This also fills a very old request I got for something similar, but I hope this works too.
> 
> Tell me if you like it! Kudos, comments, etc. are all wonderful and make me very happy.

The small building is daunting when she parks, and it's almost threatening her when she opens the doors. A little convention hall, and not much else, but it felt huge and yet insanely small all at once. Maybe it was the people trying to remember her name, or the faces she half recognizes and half doesn't give a shit, or maybe it was that she has no reason to be here.

In reality, she has no idea why she even came. Everything about high school was a dreaded memory to April - minus the whole messing with janitors bit, because really they weren't crazy and she loved convincing them they totally were - and she shouldn't be here. Lights, people, drinking. All of it makes her want to sigh. She's not even there with some hot guy to flaunt to the girls that picked on her. Stacy Knoblauch isn't anywhere to be found, but April bets that if she's here, then she's with some doctor or lawyer. Or maybe she had ten kids when she was eighteen and her whole life is in shambles, and she's addicted to meth. It's a comforting thought.

Heading to the bar immediately, April scans the room for recognizable faces. Some of the people stick out to her, but none of them have names. 

"Miss?"

April turns, and the man behind the counter with a gentle face and a soft smile asks her, seemingly again, "What would you like?"

"Whiskey sour," she replies, distant and looking away from the admittedly cute guy to judge someone for being not awesome to her.

"Sorry, we're only serving beer and champagne tonight," he says and she can tell that he's genuinely sorry or at least good at his job. Probably the latter.

"Ugh, fine," she rolls her eyes. "Beer."

He gives her that same smile and she actually returns it, deciding that he definitely didn't go to her school. The little Pawnee rec hall is just as pathetic as she remembers, with its dinky floor space and a single dangling chandelier in the middle of the ceiling that was clearly for show more than anything. Who they were showing off to, April isn't sure. The whole place was lame, and she longs for her bed in Indianapolis, and wonders what she did to deserve to be here. Oh, right. She came here herself, out of some strange obligation to seeing her high school bullies and terrifying them in some way. She debated bringing one of her old voodoo dolls, but then discovered that her mom threw them all away and even burned them which, as far as April is concerned, is the biggest invasion of her privacy ever.

Still thinking, April doesn't realize someone is standing next to her. 

"Hey man," he says and his voice seems familiar but April chalks that up to the same bizarre déjà vu she's been having all night looking at people. "Beer?"

"Sure thing."

April looks over at him, and something clicks. His frizzy, curly brown hair is unmistakable, but even if he was bald or had super long hair or a mohawk - and she could get behind that in a really dumb way - she'd recognize that smile. It's all teeth, and friendly, and so warm that she feels like she could fall into it forever. His burly physique seems to have dropped off a little, his football days far behind him, and a bit of pudge keeps his cheeks red and even more jovial than she remembers though the scratchy looking, measly beard is just as she recalls in all its patchy glory. He taps his fingers on the bar and looks around before glancing at her. Doing a double-take, he smiles again and recognition sparks in his eyes, green and open just like she remembers them.

"Wait a minute," he says holding a finger up. 

"Andy?" she asks, the first smile of the night finding its way on the curl of her lips. 

"April!" he says, shouting and then letting a laugh out. She chuckles nervously. "April Ludgate!" For a moment they don't say anything other than awkward  _wow's_ and  _holy crap_ and it's weird, but she kind-of actually remembers him. "What, I'm right aren't I?"

"Totally," she nods.

"Nice," he pumps his fist in the air and she looks down, laughing again. "It's so good to see you again."

"Yeah, you too," she agrees and a moment later Andy's beer arrives. "Um, I'll let you go and stuff-"

"Oh, sure," his voice shrinks and April hesitates for a second. "Or you could, um, come hang out with us over by the collage things?" He points over his shoulder at the walls of photos and a booth where a few other people are sitting, chatting, and drinking. 

"Um..."

"You don't have to. I mean, it'd be cool," he peers down at his beer and then laughs. "It's uh, it's good to see you."

"Hey," she interrupts him from turning around. Andy was, really, just a good guy and she believed that was showing again here. "Lemme get my drink, okay? I'll meet you over there."

His eyes light up again and he smiles. Nodding, he says with a light stutter, "Y-yeah, sure. Awesome!"

He stands a full head taller than her, and even has to look down at her, but he's the one being insecure here. It's unusual, though April isn't exactly unaccustomed to it. Guys approached her in bars and grimaces or leering looks sent them running, and the brave ones eventually grew bored of her, so it's a nice change of pace. Really, Andy was always great. She remembers a day in high school, long ago, where he started talking to her. It was strange. She always spent lunches in the courtyard, alone under a tree, and scribbled teenage angst into a little notebook. In another world, she might have thought something of their conversations, but then he was just careful and spoke to her occasionally. He even invited her to a house party when they were graduating, but she never went. Sometimes she regrets it, and wonders what would have come of it, but she tries not to think about any of that anymore.

Taking her beer with her, April cautiously approaches the booth. Andy's sitting on the outside next to a short guy with clearly too many stories to tell and a couple across from them, speaking casually and telling jokes to each other. At least, April assumes the people on the other side are a couple. The guy with what looks like a horribly broken nose has his arm slung over the blonde lady sitting next to him, and they share glances. Either they're a couple or this reunion is going way better for other people.

"Hey," she says in a small voice, unsure how to introduce herself. Reintroduce herself? It's all confusing, and life would be way easier if she could just go home, but now Andy has her drawn in a little.

People turn to look at her, and Andy stands up. "You can, um... or wait, do you wanna sit at the end? I know that's, like, way more convenient," he offers her his seat and she laughs a little. "Oh, sure. I'll just sit back down and you can, uh..."

April slides in next to him and looks around the booth. 

"So..."

"Wait," the guy across from her with the beak gives her a once-over and then smiles. "April, right?"

"Yep."

"We sat next to each other in calc," he says like she's supposed to remember that. "Well, when you came. You missed half the classes."

"Retook it over the summer," April says with a sip of her beer. The weak pisswater barely gets down before she scrunches her nose up. Setting it down with no intention of picking it back up, she gets an odd desire to leave. "It was a stupid class anyways."

"I mean, calculus is an important building block for all sorts of problem solving skills," he defends. He's defending  _math_ and April rolls her eyes, taking a deep breath. 

"Babe," the woman next to him whispers.

"Yeah, I know," he looks down and laughs. "So, I'm uh... Ben. You remember, right? Ben-"

"Wyatt," April finishes. Now she can actually remember him and how downright  _annoying_ he was in class. He was actually the reason she skipped that class, if only because he would always have discussions with the teacher in the middle of class about whatever dumb problem they were working on that bored her to tears. Or skipping. Usually skipping. 

"This is my, uh, girlfriend-"

"Leslie Knope," the woman offers her hand and April takes it after an exchange that's too uncomfortable to continue - somewhere between a glance, a grimace, and a scowl. "I didn't go to this school. Well, I did but not in the same year. I was two years ahead of you guys, so I was busy in college."

"Yeah, Leslie's like a super cool parks lady now," Andy pipes up and April's reminded why she's even here. "She runs, like, the country."

"No, Andy-"

"Yeah, Leslie's the real deal these days," the sober man pipes up. Apparently, from the quickness in his voice, he had a  _lot_ he was about to say. "In fact, I was-"

"Ew, I need to leave," April interrupts and stands up. Andy follows her.

By the time she's over and away from that little mess, she's staring up at the collage of photos. A sudden, churning feeling in her stomach and a blankness in her head tells her to get out of that room that's shrinking but not. Whirling around, Andy's a few feet behind her with his beer, awkward and mouth gaping like he was just about to say something. There's a silent exchange there, no words, before April walks away from him out towards the parking lot. Pushing open the double doors, April is instantly greeted by the cool, refreshing air. A weight in her purse gets heavier and she walks to her car in desperation. Inside, she pulls out, lights, and takes one heavenly pull from a joint before someone knocks on her window. Startled, she jumps back in the seat and nearly drops her cigarette on herself, and his face becomes so apologetic she doesn't feel so bad.

It's Andy.

"Hey," she hears him shout, muffled by the window. She opens the door and steps out. "Hey," he repeats.

"What?" she bites back and regrets the sharp tone, but then remembers that she doesn't care. He's just some dude that invited her over to talk with boring people about boring things for boring reasons. He was probably boring too.

"Sorry about, um, in there," he points over his shoulder and then scratches the back of his neck. 

April sighs and twirls the roughly rolled cigarette between her fingers. "It's fine," she finally says.

"Do you... mind?" he points at her hand and April offers the joint to him. After a puff and a cough, a little laughter from her that he shares with a louder hacking noise, Andy hands it back to her. "Ugh, now I know why I stopped. I didn't know you-?"

"I don't really," she shrugs and tosses the thing to the ground, stamping it out with her heel. "Kinda needed to calm down, y'know? That stuff helps."

"Oh, sure," he nods. 

After a few more moments of silence, Andy standing there in front of her as she leans back on her car door, she speaks up. "So, why'd you even invite me over for that... I dunno, introduction?" she asks him plainly.

"It's good to see you again," he replies almost enigmatically and then smirks. "So, since you're relaxed and we're just hanging out-"

"Just chillin'," she jokes, crossing her arms and letting her teeth chatter. After a second, a little blowing wind, she brushes a bang out of her eyes and smiles. 

"Um, what're you up to these days? It's been, like," he laughs and then continues, "like ten years or something."

April can't help but smirk again. She remembers him just being kind and funny, and open to everything. It's what led them to simply talking for about half a year. After that, she isn't sure what happened to him and, for once, she's curious. First, though, she guesses there's some kind of dumb social expectation that she answer his question first. Another reason for that little puff earlier, she tells herself.

"I work for some dumb advertising agency in Indy," she nods.

"Oh, yeah? That's so cool," and just like that bartender-slash-whatever guy earlier, he sounds genuine and like that is awesome to him. That same, nearly childish candor in his voice catches her by surprise and she nods.

"I just do, like, designs and stuff."

"Oh, like drawing?"

"Digital artist, I think is the job title," she quirks her face into a thoughtful expression and nods. Laughing, she says, "Actually I have no idea what my job is."

"Sounds awesome."

"What're you into?" she asks him, finally. 

"Music," he answers slowly. 

 _That's right_.

He was in a band. That was the real thing that intrigued her teenage self - the musician in him. He played guitar and sang, if she remembers right, and he was in some dumb garage rock band that played really stupid songs, but he looked cute doing it. That's really all that mattered then, and now he just seems different from that guy. He's wearing a dress shirt and his hair is semi-done up, the tousled look his thing she guesses, and he probably sings about down-home cooking or something, so April smiles and nods.

"Duh, of course," she says like she wasn't thinking about him in a silly cowboy hat. "You were in a band in school, right? Um... Rat something?"

"Mouse Rat," he corrects her. "Stupid name."

"No, it's cool," she taps his shoulder and he grins that same thing. When she does, the cold air on her arms attacks her in new force, and she realizes the little black dress and thin jacket-thing combo was absolutely  _horrible_. "Ugh, I kinda wanna talk inside? Where it's not, like, five degrees."

"Oh, totally," he says, almost apologetically, and starts taking his jacket off to give to her. She declines with a smile, thankful that the cold can stave off her likely red face.

 

 

* * *

 

 

"Wait, is that-"

"Yeah, that's Ann," Andy points at a little photograph on a wall scattered with them in a massive collage, and then back to the lady with an impossibly beautiful man at her side. 

"She looks exactly the same," April says with a laugh, glancing at her and the laughing mannequin-horror with impeccable cheekbones.

"I know right! She was prom queen and looks  _totally_ the same," Andy says, pointing at another one where Ann was standing tall with him and their arms locked. 

"Ew, you dated her?"

"What?" Andy laughs while April shakes her head, taking a sip from the champagne she picked up, scanning all of the pictures. "She was hot, I was a dumb kid. I played football and she was a cheerleader, it was high school crap."

"She still is," April adds with a shrug, and continues her search unabated by Andy's piqued curiosity.

There's dozens of the school, and at parties that April can't remember. Probably for a good reason, too, since she was likely not at any of them, but it's still curious. A picture of their class is at the top, and she's there, sure, but she was even shorter then and didn't have her pumps now to make up for it then. She can still make out where she’s standing, but it’s barely anything of a picture.

“Did I even go to school here?” April asks, chuckling.

“You’re in, like, zero of these pictures,” Andy agrees, eyeing them again and shaking his head. “You were like a ghost.”

“Maybe I am a ghost,” April offers.

He touches her arm and pushes her with a light touch. “Nice try,” he says smugly.

“Oh, d’you know a ghost when you see one?” she asks, taking a sip from her glass and looking around.

“Whoa, look!” he says, pointing but April can’t quite follow his finger. She shakes her head in confusion. “Right there,” he repeats, getting closer to her and pointing where he’s looking.

This time she sees it. A random scenery shot of the front steps of Pawnee High shows two people in the foreground smiling and they were clearly the subjects of the photo, a random couple that April is sure isn't here, and in the background is what Andy is pointing at. That same short girl, decked in something that isn't black for once, is leaving the building with wind blasting her face - probably annoying the hell out of her, but right there in the photo looks kind-of artistic - and April's eyes are instantly drawn to the vibrant, yellow shoes she's wearing. Yellow heels, to be specific. They're really grotesque, but apparently April thought they were cool. Or, maybe, she knew they were unsightly and that people would think so too. A hipster fashion statement if there ever was one, and she can't help but chuckle and walk towards it.

"Oh my God, those shoes were so-"

"Yellow," Andy finishes. April looks over her shoulder at him and finds that the same, impossible warmth and ease of being around him is still the same. Maybe it always was and she just left it alone for too long, she isn't sure. "What, they're super yellow!"

"You don't get it," she says back, a snide joke.

"You always wore black, I'm pretty sure. Someone probably just wanted to catch you in that..." he makes a swirling motion with his finger, trying to figure out the word. "That look."

"Thanks for letting me down easy," April mutters. 

"I was kind of a heartbreaker back then," Andy says with a smirk.

She's about to say something else, ask him why they're looking at photos together, when she remembers her query in the parking lot. He deflected it, or at least seemed to never bring it back up inside. Now was a better time than ever to ask about it, she guesses.

"So, your music... um, you still play?"

"Oh, totally," Andy nods. "I left a tour to come here."

"A tour?" she asks, incredulous. 

"Yeah, I'm like, a solo artist," he says with a triumphant look on his face. April just shakes her head and leans back on the collage wall. "What? Don't you believe me?"

"I do, I've just never heard your songs."

"Really? I had this super, um, this super popular one," Andy says, then he stutters briefly and a look overtakes his eyes. It's something she isn't used to, and April doesn't know where it's directed so she just ignores it for now. Another few moments of mumbling, starting sentences without finishing them, follow and then another chuckle and he looks at her. "You really never heard it?"

"Um, should I have?"

"It was super popular," he adds a little defensively, and then sighs. "Sorry, that's-"

"What's the name?" she asks, curious if she  _had_ heard it.

"'Never Had?'" he proffers, a hopeful look on his face.

"Doesn't ring a bell," April shakes her head. Surely if she had heard a song with Andy's voice on it she would have recognized it immediately. He had this sort of lullaby gruffness to him that he could use either for a sweet, crooning tune or a decent rock growl. 

"Oh, well that's-"

"Yo!" a voice interrupts them, and a gangly, spiky-haired guy with too much alcohol in his system appears from her right and is suddenly way too close. His voice comes out in a slur and April takes a step back towards Andy. "You... two. You,  _Lunge_? Two of you, my homie and li’l baby girl,  _Lunge_  it with me?"

"Is he asking me out?" April whispers over her shoulder.

"Dude, let's go to  _The Lunge_!" Andy says, and she just looks at him, confused. "Y'know, the bar? Oh man, it's got karaoke and all kinds of stuff, and awesome hot wings too but those kinda suck when you're doing tequila shots."

"We lunging or what, baby?" the squirrelish man gyrates his hips and April pushes him, palm flat on his chest, away. "Oh no, what'd I say to do us like that?"

"Jean-Ralphio, man, what'd I tell you about hitting on strange chicks," a short, black man with an incredibly expensive looking suit and gelled hair approaches the horrifying mess of alcohol and hair spray. "You have to cut me  _in_."

"Maybe we shouldn't go to the bar..." Andy trails off, scratching his meager facial hair.

"Nah, let's go hang out," April turns around. 

"Really?"

"Yeah, why not? Maybe we can make fun of these two idiots," she whispers and glances back at them. "It'll be fun," she adds with a wink and then faces the confrontational duo of betas again. "All right boys, there’s no reason to drink alone, am I right?"

 

 

* * *

 

 

Turns out, April doesn't want to drink with either of these weirdos. Jean-Ralphio got handsy, touching her butt once, and that earned him a grimace and a surprisingly strong word from Andy. She was about to smack the rodent-slash-beanstalk, but Andy stepped in and the previous bravado in Saperstein's look, that casual and terrible suave machismo, all fell apart when someone twice his size was in his face. April got an apology and a free drink.

"Y'know, I could've handled that myself,” April reminds him as she takes a sip of the whiskey sour that she desperately needed earlier.

“Yeah, but he was a real dick,” Andy nodded, taking his beer and setting it down without another sip. “You okay?”

April stares at him, and she really looks. In this rundown bar, fresh paint far from any surface inside and the only thing remotely edible was the torn leather of the seats they were sitting on, she’s remembering a lot about him. Some of the alcohol in her system, just a beer and the whiskey, gets to her but April knows this stuff about him. Like how she remembers what she was writing in that little book, and how differently things could have been had he not sat down to talk to her and just be friendly that day. What would have happened that day? For certain, there wouldn’t be a photo of her in yellow heels on a collage.

There would have been a much different memorial there. April doesn’t bother to think about _that_ either.

And now, she’s seeing why she gravitated to him all over again. He was asking her things, simple things, and they were brief comforts from most of the world. Even if that world was singing a terrible rendition of Bad Blood, drinking, and having a good time – Tom and Jean-Ralphio slinking away to some other lady that April had no clue about and the couples of Leslie and Ben, speaking in private in a distant corner, and Ann and the Most Beautiful Man on the Planet laughing about _something_ – April felt disconnected from it. Different, even. She just, in that moment, felt alone and like she didn’t belong. That was the true horror of high school to her, and what led her to escaping it as quickly as she could. April likes being weird, and back then it was the best thing in her life because everyone ignored her, but sometimes those little jabs at her quirks became less eclectic taste and more anxious nerves, and slowly they all built up into this strange dissociation from the concept of high school and its cliques and weirds, and jocks and goths, and everything else. She was different from all of them, and it wasn’t a good thing.

Andy’s simple question, however, was all she wanted. A simple, honest reminder that someone cared was all she wanted, and now she has it and Andy was giving it over so easily. It was, frankly, nice to hear.

“I’m great,” she shouts over the music, watching a woman drag three men onto the dance floor and proceed to do something that April’s pretty sure is illegal in public. At least they're having fun, she figures. “Why?”

“Dunno, you just seem… super not into this,” he points around. “I thought you wanted to make fun of those guys?”

“Already got that outta the way,” April shrugs and chugs the remainder of her drink. It runs bitter but welcome down her throat.

“We could dance?” he offers, but then April gives him a cold look and he nods. “Yeah, you’re right. That was dumb.”

“No, it wasn’t I just…” she sighs. “I dunno, is it okay if we don’t?”

“Well, duh,” Andy says like it’s super obvious.

“I dunno, we’re kinda… doing something here,” she gestures between them and then shakes her head. “That’s stupid. I have no idea what I’m saying.”

“Nah, I think, um, I think I like that,” he tells her, a smile on his face just like always. “Unless you’re, like, with someone or something? I don’t wanna intrude or anything, or even imply that we’re doing anything or-“

“Shut up,” she rolls her eyes, thankful that she can quiet down as the karaoke dies away. “I just broke up with my last boyfriend last week.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah, turns out he’s gay,” April looks down at her empty glass and then back at him. “You?”

“Tried to get married once,” he says.

“Oh my God.”

“It didn’t work out _at all_ ,” Andy clarifies with a laugh. “It’s kinda funny, y’know. She wasn’t the coolest person or anything, but I thought stuff was just gonna work out. Never did.”

“Sorry,” April shrugs and taps her glass on the table between them.

“Eh, it’s not a big deal-“

“Holy shit!” a voice breaks through, loud and screaming into a microphone, interrupting their conversation. “Dude, Andy! They have your song in here. Dude, your song is _in here_ in the karaoke!”

Before anything could be done about it, and clearly Andy was uncomfortable with the situation, people were chanting for him to sing. The bartender even brought out an acoustic guitar, apparently a former band member of Andy’s named Boley or Barney or something, and tries to coax him onto the stage, shouting with the rest of the bar. April sits back, nursing her remaining ice, and tries to scheme of some way to get him out of this mess. Maybe if she had a throwing knife, and knew how to throw it accurately, or some kind of smoke bomb – stink bomb, maybe – then she might be able to distract them long enough to get Andy out of here. Instead, he looks at the guitar and sighed before leaning over the table to whisper to her.

“I really wish you said you heard the song before,” he tells her in that small voice and then stands up, breaking into a grin to face the rest of the bar. “Guys, I don’t think-“

A huge roar of hopeful voices opens up and he looks over his shoulder at April briefly before sighing. Andy grabs the guitar from the bartender and, after a short one-armed hug, disengages to go up to the little stage. April glances around, notices Leslie and Ben holding hands and him whispering something to her that made her smile like mad, and then Ann is lost in Beautiful and his eyes, and the foursome from the dance floor are nowhere to be found, and hopefully nowhere to be heard.

The whole place quiets down in anticipation. Apparently it's a slower number, because people lean in closer and continue their weird gazing from before. Andy clears his throat and looks down at the guitar and then up at the microphone in front of him.

"So, yeah," he says and then shakes away something else and his eyes light into something else and his grin is as wide and friendly as ever. "I'm only doing this because you assholes made me!"

Everyone seems to get a laugh out of that but then the click track for the song begins and he strums dead chords along with it, priming himself for the tune.

When he begins, it's an airy, fragile piece with delicate, high-pitched chording and his voice is gentle in that crooning way she hoped it would have. When he starts singing, couples move closer, and April can't take her eyes away from him. A couple in front of her kisses early in the song, and it only gets heavier from there.

 _I've been gone for so long now_  
_Chasing everything that’s new_  
_I've forgotten how I got here_  
_I have not forgotten you_  
_We were just children but our eyes opened and_  
_You were all that I could see_  
_You came close enough to know my heart beat but_  
_Still not close enough for me_

He's smooth, and soulful, and April feels something familiar in the song. She isn't sure what it is, but lets it go and consumes the atmosphere of the bar instead, with all of Andy's beautiful words and all of the music in the small place becomes almost otherworldly pretty. Whether that's supposed to mean something, April isn't sure. All she knows is his voice is deep and warm, and his fingers dexterous and creating a picture of serenity in their otherwise dismal reunion.  
  
_Through the good times and the bad_  
_You were the best I never had_  
_The only chance I wish I had to take_  
_But there was no writing on the wall_  
_No warning signs to follow_  
_I know now and I just can't forget_  
_You’re the best I never had_  
  
_In this motel_  
_Well passed midnight_  
_When I’m bluer than a bruise_  
_You come drifting in through the half light_  
_In your funny yellow shoes-_

 

April's breath caught in her throat. Andy wasn't looking at her, lost in the performance, and his wild, ruffled hair moves with the light breeze of a draft behind him, and she's pleading for him without words to look at her.

  
_-And I hope that’s you standing at my doorway_  
_That’s the scratching of your key_  
_And I hope this song I’m singing_  
_Someday finds you_  
_My letter to the rain_  
  
_Through the good times and the bad_  
_You were the best I never had_  
_The only chance I wish I had to take_  
_But there was no writing on the wall_  
_No warning signs to follow_  
_I know now and I just cant forget_  
_You’re the best I never had_  
_Nana nanana_  
_Best I never had_  
_Nana Nanana mmm_  
_Best I never had_  
_Nana Nanana_

It keeps on for another bar or so after that, and when Andy's done a wave of applause and uproarious cheers explode from the small crowd, with people clapping and slapping tables and taking huge drinks from their glasses or doing shots. Everyone else knows the song, and April feels different more so now than ever before. The difference now is that when Andy puts the guitar away he looks up at her, a shy apology in his eyes like he isn't sure what else to say, and April has to process all of this. He noticed her, and that wasn't some revelatory experience, but those feelings  _years_ old suddenly conflagrate her entire body and spread until she wants him to walk back over to her. She feels different, but not excluded anymore. Now she feels like it's all been about her, and this song - this  _famous_ song that people have heard, that people love, and guys in dorm rooms were learning so they could sing it to their girlfriend or girls to their girlfriends or guys to their boyfriends, and he wrote it for  _her_ and she was the girl in the song for once. She wasn't just included, she was everything.

It took that sparse uncertainty in her chest and lifted it into this surreal happiness where she wanted to smile but was blushing too much, but wanted to throw a glass bottle at someone to relieve the emotions but wanted to smile, and her blushing needed to stop because she wants to cry - this  _guy that saved her life_ was holding back this emotion all this time - and she needs to do all of this, and more. She needs to take all of this in, all in the span of the five seconds it takes him to cover the distance to her. 

April is not at all prepared for it.

When he sits down next to her, every inch of her is alive. She wants to grab his face and kiss him, slap him, ask what's wrong with him, tell him that this song is the greatest thing she's ever heard but also the most embarrassing thing and everyone was looking at her. Except they weren't, but the world felt so tiny just then like it was simply that song and the two of them (and those stupid yellow shoes) and she sidles closer to him. Lowering her head so that she isn't looking at him, with her chin along his arm still a little tense from playing, she smirks.

"Really?" she whispers while people bustle around them.

"Yeah," he nods, looking away from her for a moment to chuckle. "You wanna talk about this somewhere else?"

"You really wrote that... when did you write that song?"

"Like, when I was twenty," he explains and scratches his knuckles with his other hand. "Took like two hours."

"It just kinda all came out," she finishes for him as if she understands. There were three unsent letters, one email, and dozens of texts just like that song, except they all went unsent. "Just... kinda fell out of you?"

"Yeah," he answers, a little breathless now that they've both taken to actually looking at each other after the performance.

For a second, she wants to graze his lips with hers but the desire fades for the wonder of how he'd react. Clearly, she should know by now. But, perhaps the reason he didn't want her to hear the song at this point was because he didn't have those feelings anymore. It all hits her in a whirlwind of confusion and she has no time to react before they're both outside. She must have agreed, because Andy just isn't that kind of guy - or hasn't shown that at all - and they're standing right where people would see them anyway. That little paranoia fades away when he smiles and takes his jacket off. 

"You are super cold," he says and drapes his large coat over her, covering her shoulders and instantly sinking a heat into her that she doesn't want to get rid of.

"Thanks."

For a few more seconds they simply stand there in the slower chilling night air, and April wants to just pop and let everything out. Still, she isn't sure. As if sensing the tension, Andy begins to say something at the same second she does.

"Was I really all you could see?" she asked, and at that same instant he said:

"I still think about that song all of the time."

His hands freeze in the cold air, his breath visible in front of her, and she's still wrapped in his coat. His open mouth swings into a small smile and she can't help but return it before looking down at the ground with disbelief in her throat. Thoughts bounce and refuse to go away, and all of them are asking the same thing over and over again. They're telling her to do exactly what she should have done years ago, with time and realities away from them and the chances all gone but now, in this one, they were right there and in front of her face. Looking back up, Andy's breath is faster and his mouth is still barely open like he's trying to figure out how to word his next sentence.

"I seriously do," he explains with a nod. "I hate that song just, I dunno, because it reminds me of you and... y'know, that sucks because I was an idiot and you're here now and I don't wanna screw that up."

"What happened to tours?" she asks.

"They don't matter," Andy tells her with a sincere smile and then a laugh. "I literally live out of a suitcase. My  _tours_ are out of my station wagon at coffee shops, playing the same crap all day all the time. I can barely feed myself because I don't have the royalties to that song, and I have tabs in every bar on the east coast all waiting to be paid. My tours don't matter."

"So what am I? Just some girl in some song you wrote ten years ago?" April asks, spiking her words with venom in case she's right. It's her safety net, it always has been.

"No-"

"So that when you learn I'm not just yellow shoes and pretty hair and I wake up crying some days and other days I wanna find a prescription for something," she spills out and takes a deep breath. "Andy, I'm not your muse. I'm just me-"

"And you are awesome. You're funny, and smart, and sweet, and cute, and-"

"And all of those things are the girl in the song. I'm a bitch, and I'm broke, and I just wanna sleep all day, and some days I wanna never leave my bed and I hope I die in there sometimes," she whispers, glancing over her shoulder at the people leaving the bar. "Andy, I'm still... I haven't changed, but I have. I know it's hard to get, but I've changed, and you have too. We're all different, and you can't just call me a song. I'm more than that."

"I know. I seriously do, I think you're just... the rain, y'know? You're constant, and cold, but you've got so much, like, life in you," he says and chuckles, realizing the comparison to the song. "That doesn't help my case, does it?"

"Not really," she says with a laugh.

"I dunno..."

"Am I why you came back to the reunion?" April asks very candidly. "You don't wanna talk to anyone about your music, or your life, and you don't talk to anyone else. You've just been hanging out with me all night. Andy, did you come back just for me?"

He looks down, sheepishly, and then nods. "Yeah," he whispers. "But you're not that song, okay? I don't think of you like that, not right now. Not anymore."

"Yeah? Well you just said that the song reminds you of me-"

"Then!" he shouts, and it's the first time she's heard his voice above a friendly laugh. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that. I just think... I wish I'd taken that chance, y'know? Back then. I wanna take that chance, and we like each other and I think you're awesome and we could probably be awesome together, but I don't wanna take anything away from you-"

"Andy. I'm not whoever you think I am. I'm not-"

"You're April," he tells her flatly. "I know that. I know that you're different, but you're still April. I  _really_ liked April then, and I really like April now."

She weighs his words for a moment and shakes her head, but a smile falls on her lips easily. "Y'know, I used to really like Andy."

"Yeah? How's he doing now?" Andy asks with a half-smile, partial worry there. 

Instead of answering him, she walks forward and does just what she wanted in that bar. Cupping his cheeks, she leans up on her heels and lets her warm lips on his in a brief touch that's barely even a kiss. Still, it's heat, and his face and his mouth greet her with that same warmth that the rest of his body and soul radiates, and it's just what she pictured it would be like except better because it's not fantasy. It's not even the immediate reality of high school, where so many things could have gone astray. Instead it's now, in the present, and this reality is so good that she dives in for another and another. Calming down, breathing out, she looks up at him finally and he gives her the same grin of old.

It brings her to his station wagon, hikes her dress up, and brings them both to muttering, pleading, desperate touches and closeness in the cold. 

It brings her to saying his name softly in the dark against his skin, on top of him with her hands in his hair and his around her waist. His mouth catches her, brings those words into him and they share moans. 

It brings them to a ball of cuddled attempts at heating each other, covered in coats and clothing, and, afterwards, they stare at each other in the pitch black. 

"Did you?" she asks him out of the blue, her eyes half-closed and sleep threatening itself on her. 

Andy takes a moment to realize she's asking him something and then yawns. "What?" he asks, confused.

"Did you really only see me?" she clarifies and even in the dark she can see his smile, almost lighting the way.

"Yeah," he assures her, nodding, and then brings her closer to him and into his chest. "Yes, April. I totally only saw you. I've only got eyes for you."

Whether it's true, and whether he's honest, April wants to believe him. For the first time in years, she's willing to go in on a gamble for this one thing and this one person and she hopes that Andy can be that person. She wants him to be everything she dreamed of in those letters, someone who would take the scars from her arms and call them beautiful and tell her that it was okay, and not that she only needed that, but that she wished someone was there to do that. The difference was that she clearly moved on without him, but it would have been so much easier with him. Maybe she should be spiteful for that, but in reality she was the one that never sent the messages telling him how important that  _one_ conversation was that  _one_ day. The odds, she knows, are almost impossible. It's so improbable that the universe would glance down at these two - these idiots, these fools - and say, "Yes, today, you," and let them be, together, a duality. In him, she had a slice of hope for just a moment, and just long enough to hold back her hand, and he saw something that he wanted and had no idea how to do anything but long for. She fears what that could mean, and what he sees in her, but these moments - this day - tell her that he sees more than that now, and that they've grown up.

They're different, yes, but in such a way that they've been left to their own devices and, despite the infinite realities available, they sought each other out once more. Perhaps it was fate, or maybe she knew he would be there looking for her in some way or other, but now with his arm around bare back and their clothes and bodies heating them at a frigid hour, she doesn't care what it was. All that matters now is that he has the chance to be the best she's ever had.

**Author's Note:**

> I thoroughly recommend the song "Never Had" written/performed by the actor for the original characters in "10 Years." It's a sweet number, and fun as hell to play for those of you so inclined :D
> 
> I altered a lyric because, well, it includes a name of a character in the movie which doesn't work here. It's a great song.


End file.
